Give Me Love
by gabswizzle
Summary: For her final year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is chosen to be Head Girl opposite Blaise Zabini. As their relationship progresses, Hermione finds herself caught between two lovers: one classically romantic, the other electrifyingly dangerous. Lines are blurred, and only one question will end the confusion: Does love make you vulnerable or indestructible?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Higitus Figitus!" Hermione shouted, jarring the sleeping matron in the portrait awake. The haggard-looking woman gave an unappreciative huff as she swung forth her frame, revealing the doorway. After whispering a reluctant 'thank you' to the irate portrait, Hermione stepped into the Heads' Common Room.

Casting a curious glance around the room, she inhaled the crisp scent of fresh parchment and the smoky aroma emitted by the roaring fireplace. The walls were lined in a color scheme that was surprising harmonious; the crimson and gold decorations complementing the emerald and silver ones in a way that caught the firelight and filled the common room with a warm glow. Hermione's eyes drifted towards the two cozy looking armchairs flanking a plush couch that was covered with an assortment of mismatched pillows. Hermione let a pleased hum vibrate from her lips.

_It almost rivals the interior design of the Weasley household_.

Grinning at the thought, she quietly tiptoed into the center of the room where she noticed that an oakwood desk, clearly weathered with age, sat poised near the window overlooking the lake.

Hermione ran her finger across the surface of the desk, her dainty digit collecting dust and leaving a trail of polished wood in its wake. She wondered about all the past Head students who must have sat at this desk - _her_ desk - and looked out this window, past the Whomping Willow and across the lavender patches and fields of swaying grass below. She wondered if they too contemplated the solidarity, the familiarity of knowledge as they completed their studies. Feeling compelled to do so, Hermione gently traced the quill scratches and ink stains that marred the desk's finish, her lips parting in silent reverie. It was as if all of the school's past Head students were reaching out, trying to communicate their stories and experiences through a desk that had seen it all; a silent observer of the past, present, and future.

Hermione smiled, her heart swelling with pride as she lost herself in thoughts of how hard she would work to make sure McGonagall remembered exactly why she was appointed with such an esteemed position in the first place.

"Well, well, well. Leave it to the Gryffindor Princess to be exactly on time," drawled a silky, lightly-accented voice from behind her. Hermione gasped and turned on the spot, pitching forward ungracefully in surprise. She tightly shut her eyes and braced for impact, but instead of feeling cold, unforgiving stone, Hermione found herself surrounded by solid warmth. Bravely peeking up through her eyelashes, recognizing her hero as none other than Blaise Zabini, Slytherin pureblood and infamous Malfoy lackey. She pulled back quickly, muttering an apology and blushing a scarlet that would put her house colors to shame.

"Whoa! Easy there, little lioness. I know it's hard to resist my Italian charms but I didn't think Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess and queen of the know-it-alls, would be throwing herself at me the minute I walked through the door," Blaise teased. Hermione tensed, preparing for the barrage of barbed comments that would surely follow. Curling into herself a little, her shoulders slumped and her hair fell around her face, her riotous curls acting as a curtain to hide her embarrassment.

She waited, her heart thumping loudly against her chest and reverberating throughout her ribcage. She was about to reprimand herself for being such a wimp when her mind was quickly distracted by her heart, the cruel organ beating in time with the clock, counting the agonizing seconds of guarded silence.

_Where are the biting insults? Where are the harsh, bitter words that usually spewed from his strident mouth?_

Hermione regarded him warily, a mix of confusion and frustration splashed across her face.

_Should I say something? _

_What is he staring at me for? I wish he'd stop . . ._

_Get a hold of yourself, Hermione! Where's all that bloody Gryffindor courage?_

After both simultaneously losing and winning her intense inner debate, she decided to play along and see just how far she'd have to push this pureblood elitist before he'd revert to his snide, chauvinist ways. Hermione squared her shoulders and connected her eyes with the curious ones peering down at her. Molten chocolate met deep russet, and Blaise noticed the brilliant golden flecks intermixed in her irises as her eyes grew wide with fiery passion.

"I'm going to choose to ignore the implied insult." In a flash she threw up her wand, pressing it firmly into his sternum. "But next time I won't be so lenient, you Italian _ruffiano_." She finished smoothly, controlling her voice to keep it from shaking with her growing anger. Blaise simply raised an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk.

"Oh, how you wound me!" He mocked as he folded his fists together and thrust them into his stomach, imitating a fatal stab. "I'd better stay on your good side if I don't want any more stinging shots like that one fired my way."

Hermione stomped her foot and huffed, unaware of - or perhaps simply choosing to avoid thinking about - the childish nature of her actions. "As if a sneaky Slytherin like you would even know how to get on, much less stay on, _anyone's_ good side."

Blaise's mouth twitched in irritation. He took a moment to calm his senses and eyed the petite witch in front of him. With her hip cocked and her fists jammed into her sides, she looked every bit the self-righteous Gryffindor he remembered. A question about where she was hiding her battle scars - both physical and emotional - flitted through his mind, but he thought better of it and instead replied, "I happen to be an extremely well-mannered gentleman. In fact, if you're not careful, you may find yourself swept off your feet." Blaise smirked, his eyes sparkling with a playful glow. Before Hermione could even formulate the first word of her response, he lunged at her, lifting her off the ground and positioning one arm under her knees and the other supporting her lower back.

"Blaise! What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?! Put me down! Now!" Hermione demanded, struggling to free herself of his powerful hold.

"I don't think so, Princess." He grinned cheekily, clearly enjoying her flustered state. Hermione began kicking her legs frantically then, drumming her palms on his chest and grunting with exertion.

"Put. Me. Down. Now!" She spat through gritted teeth.

"As you wish." He relented, dropping the wriggling brunette none to gently onto the carpet covered floor. Had she been in a position to admire the rug, she supposed it would have been the kind of fluffy carpeting she could bury her toes into, letting the the comforting softness calm her nerves as she sipped chamomile tea and read _Hogwarts: A History_ for the millionth time.

"Oof!" She yelped, her arms snapping back to cushion the blow. A few stray curls fell into her face, and Hermione blew them out of her line of sight with a frustrated puff of air. "Now _that_ wasn't very gentlemanly."

"Funny, I was under the impression that you didn't take me for a gentleman. In fact, I thought I was - oh, how did you put it? - an _Italian ruffiano_?" Blaise retorted, smirking satisfactorily when using Hermione's own words against her worked its magic to rile her up.

Hermione hastily righted her clothes, adjusting her sensible pair of Muggle jeans and dusting off her light blue t-shirt. While composing herself, Hermione surveyed the dark-haired wizard in front of her. He was tall, extremely so, and she felt dwarfed in his presence, her worn ballet flats doing nothing to alleviate the height difference. His dark skin was blemish-free and was notably unobstructed by a residual dark mark on his forearm. Shaking her head slightly, she scolded herself for forgetting the Zabini's historically neutral political position.

_Of course he wasn't stupid enough to become a Death Eater. He's always on the winning side - his own._

Moving up, Hermione noticed the lean muscle rippling beneath Blaise's dress shirt and after catching herself staring, forced her eyes away. Her gaze drifted up to his face and she bit her lip, worrying the plump skin as her eyebrows knitted together in a perplexed expression. She tried to decode the hidden messages within his high cheekbones and sharp eyes, but all she could think about was how breathtaking his features actually were.

_I wonder if his skin is as smooth and inviting as it looks . . ._

Snapping out of her thoughts, her inquisitive eyes hardened. "What are you playing at?" She asked, understandably suspicious. The war had ended, and most people had tossed out pureblood ideology, but one could never be too sure when it came to the opinions of slippery Slytherins.

Blaise's smirk faded, the playfulness abandoning his eyes to make way for seriousness. "I'm not _playing_ at anything, Granger. For a minute there I actually thought I was _succeeding_ at becoming your friend, but the look of unadulterated distrust on your face tells me otherwise." He slowly reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear, but Hermione flinched away. Blaise sighed.

"Can you please just slap me or yell at me or something? Because I'll be honest, becoming friends with you would be a hell of a lot easier if you forgave me for all the horrible things I've said to you in the past." He let out a long breath, one that he'd been holding in since he had received the letter notifying him of his position as Head Boy opposite of one Miss Hermione Granger. "I know I've given you no reason to trust me, but when I say that I've changed it's the truth. All that tripe about blood means nothing to me. You're parentage doesn't define who you are. You're one of the most genuine wizards I know."

"I'm not the most chatty man, and I definitely am not the most opinionated. And it's because of this that even as Draco's friend I've remained carefully undetected in the eyes of you Gryffindors and instead have been allowed to simply observe your mannerisms. I've seen how people flock to you, hearts on their sleeves, for advice and assistance. I've always admired your courage and your altruistic nature, and I've always secretly hoped to one day be on the receiving end of that benevolence."

"So please, Granger. Give me a chance to prove I'm not the awful ponce I once was. Just once chance, Hermione, _please_."

Hermione started at the use of her given name, and Blaise took the opportunity to scan her face, searching for signs of approval.

_The old Blaise would never say such nice things to a muggle-born like me_.

_Yes, but times have changed. Who knows how he'll act now that prejudice is no longer acceptable?_

_Maybe all this time he's just been putting on a show; carefully constructing a facade in order to get in the good graces of other pureblooded wizarding families, like the Malfoys._

_Precisely! So what are you waiting for? Give him a chance!_

Hermione warred with herself, her inner conversation volleying between curiosity and mistrust. Finally, she bolted upright, pushing herself off the floor to stand toe to toe with the seemingly changed for the better Blaise Zabini.

"Right then! What do you say to a friendship in the name of interhouse unity?" She stuck her hand out aggressively, locking eyes with him purposefully.

"Of course, _bella signora_." Blaise firmly shook her outstretched hand, matching Hermione's determined gaze. Satisfied, she made to turn away when Blaise pulled her hand back and raised it to his lips, gently sweeping a featherlight kiss across her knuckles. Hermione blushed and snatched her hand back as Blaise chuckled, the sound deep and content.

"O-okay. That was . . . thank you?" She stuttered, her flustered expression only eliciting more laughter from the Italian wizard. "I suppose we could . . . hang out sometime or something, if you'd like." She raced through the end of the sentence, the last words barely audible as she nervously fingered her frizzy curls.

"I'd like that very much." Blaise spoke gently, as if trying not to frighten her away. Slowly lifting her gaze from the floor that had seemed quite safer than the attentive eyes staring at her just a moment ago, Hermione managed a shy smile and her heart jumped when Blaise returned the look with a grin.

"Never thought I'd see the day Zabini lowered himself for the friendship of a Mudblood." A low, honeyed voice snickered from the doorway.

Snapping her head to the side, Hermione glared at the tall, blonde-haired bigot leaning casually against the doorframe. She suddenly felt very aware of her closeness to Blaise and took a few careful steps back, distancing herself from both the Head Boy and the man who was filling the room with his disconcerting presence. Meeting his stormy grey eyes, Hermione crossed her arms indignantly, as if daring him to further invade her sanctuary.

"Malfoy." She regarded him disdainfully.

"Granger." He spat, pinning her in place with a punishing gaze.

Neither seemed ready to give up their heated staring contest that spoke more words than any conversation ever would, but after a few minutes of stewing in the tension-filled atmosphere, Blaise stepped in between the two, effectively blocking both their lines of sight.

"Let's try this again, shall we? And this time, try to not tear into each other with glares as sharp as knives, yeah? Hermione Granger, meet my best mate Draco Malfoy. He's been a right foul git in the past, and the way he used to treat you was way over the line. I'm not saying his actions were okay, but just try not to forget just how horrifically mislead he was by his arse of a father." Malfoy shot him a poisonous glare, but Blaise seemed unconcerned. "And now I think he's more of a moody asshole, which is something I definitely know you can handle." He gestured for Hermione to shake Malfoy's hand, but neither attempted to initiate the contact and the pause stretched into stony silence.

"Alright. Not ready for that yet, I see." Blaise quelled his frustration with his two stubborn friends before continuing. "Draco Malfoy, meet my new friend and soon-to-be-lover, Hermione Granger." If looks could kill, Blaise would've been smited where he stood. He grinned as Hermione whacked him on his upper arm, the slap smarting more than she probably intended it to. "She's a know-it-all, but only if you're not intelligent enough to keep up with her. And trust me, mate: you _won't_ be able to keep up with her."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Hermione was running late, _very_ late. The Sorting Hat Ceremony had taken much longer than usual the night before due to a surprisingly large influx of first years, and after leading the eager Gryffindors through the chilly castle to their dorms, Hermione had barely had the energy to brush her teeth before collapsing in a shivering, exhausted heap on her fluffy, four-poster bed.

As soon as she heard Blaise exit their shared bathroom, Hermione launched into action, tearing off yesterday's clothes and tossing them violently into her hamper. Jumping up and down animatedly, she clawed at her knee-socks in a desperate attempt at freeing her feet. Once bared, she threw the wool stockings into a careless pile in the corner of her room and dashed into the bathroom. She cast a quick locking spell on both doors and flew into the shower, spinning the valve handle haphazardly and hissing in aggravation when the first blast of ice water pelted her skin. Deciding that there was absolutely no time to wait for the water to heat up to optimal showering temperature, she clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering while she shampooed and conditioned her tumultuous curls at lightning speed. After sloppily soaping herself up and rinsing off, she reached out from behind the curtain with one hand to grab her wand while the other swiftly cut off the freezing rain.

_How could I have forgotten to set my alarm last night?! What a great way to make a first impression, Hermione. Just fantastic. The Head Girl late on the first day of class! What kind of message does that send?! Idiot, idiot, idiot . . ._

Lost in her internal scolding, she absent-mindedly spelled her hair dry, grimacing when her head once again became enveloped in the 'frizzy bush' she was so often teased about. Darting back into her room, she grabbed the first available skirt and shimmied into it. She then slipped both arms through the sleeves of her blouse and threw her robes over her head. After a quick glance in her magical mirror - and after listening halfheartedly to the mirror's complaints about her atrociously disheveled outfit - she hopped out of her room and down the hall whilst slipping on her left shoe, stopping at the top of the stairs to slip on the other.

"Running a little late, are we?"

Hermione jumped, tumbling down the first few steps before catching herself on the railing and snapping her head up. Her eyes focused in on Blaise, who stood leaning against the back of the couch, a playful smirk lighting up his features as he swung a bookbag - _her_ bookbag - in his right hand.

"Oh shut up!" She growled, marching down the rest of the stairs and tearing her bag aggressively out of Blaise's outstretched hand.

"As you wish." She heard him laugh behind her as he followed her out the door and into the crowded hallway. Making their way down several flights of stairs and into the damp dungeons of the castle, Hermione finally slowed her pace enough to let Blaise walk by her side. They strolled into the open classroom and Hermione dropped her books down onto the desk, slipping into the only open seat just as Professor Snape entered, his ebony black robes billowing behind him like a cape made of the night sky. After letting out a heavy sigh of relief, she chanced a sideways glance to see who her partners would be for the day, realizing to her horror that she was perched directly between Blaise and Malfoy.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't bite." Blaise whispered enticingly into her ear, making her shiver involuntarily as his warm breath ghosted across her skin.

"It's not _you_ I'm worried about." She hissed under her breath, jerking her thumb in Malfoy's direction.

"I saw that." Malfoy scoffed, his eyes never leaving the blackboard at the front of the room.

"Saw what?" Hermione whispered with pseudo-innocence, theatrically batting her eyelashes at Malfoy before returning Blaise's cheeky grin with a sly smile of her own.

"Miss Granger! Mister Malfoy! Is there something you wish to share with the class?" Snarled Professor Snape, and a wave a hushed giggles traversed the room before it was silenced with a menacing glare.

"No, sir!" Both students chirped at the same time, causing Malfoy to wince and Hermione to blush.

"Oh? Well then perhaps you can explain to me why you two decided that the first lesson of Advanced Potions would be the perfect time and place to begin a conversation that does not pertain to the class in the slightest?" The teacher sneered. Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply on his heel and strode back to the front of the classroom. "Today you will be making Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. Do not dissapoint me."

The class was filled with excited chatter as partners brought out cauldrons and went to retrieve the necessary ingredients from the potions cupboard.

"Amortentia." Malfoy whispered thoughtfully, almost reverently, and for a moment Hermione wondered if he was going to make an intelligent remark about the complicated potion. Her hope was quickly tamped down when he turned his head to stare her down with a malicious smirk. "How perfect for you, Granger! After all, Amortentia _is_ the only way to get that overgrown Weasel you fancy to love you back, isn't it? That kiss during the final battle just didn't do it for him, huh?"

She gasped in shock. He had called her awful names, insulted her parentage and scorned her appearance, and all that she was used to, expected it even. But never before had he so cruelly thrown her nonexistent love life in her face, and Hermione found herself holding back the sob that was crawling its way up her throat. Blinking back tears, she pushed away from the table suddenly and took off in the direction of the now unoccupied potions storage, mumbling incoherently about getting ingredients as she left.

_Whack!_ "Ow! What was that for?" Malfoy hissed, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at Blaise as he clutched the potions textbook between his tanned fingers.

"That was too far, mate. Do you even think before you open that bloody mouth of yours? She looked about ready to cry!" Blaise reprimanded.

"Good." Malfoy smirked. _Whack! _"Stop that!"

"Not until you realize how much of a prat you're being!"

"I'm not being a prat!" _Whack! _"Okay, okay. Stop! I get it, alright? I crossed a line."

Blaise hummed triumphantly, placing the textbook back in its rightful place in the center of the mahogany lab bench.

"So now what do I do?" Malfoy groaned, rubbing his hand over his face tiredly. "She's my only chance at redemption. She has this . . . this stupid heart of gold or whatever and if I can't make her see that I'm not a one-dimensional git, I'll never be able to convince the rest of the world that I'm not some shallow villain who followed the orders of a crazed sociopath."

"You could try being less hateable?" Blaise offered, earning him a sharp glare from the sulking blonde.

"I'm serious, Blaise. You and her are the only people who don't despise me for my past; the only people who can look me in the eyes and be honest with me. There is no way anyone will ever accept me back into their good graces so long as they hold _this_," he angrily rolled up his sleeve, exposing the fading Dark Mark that marred his pearly skin, "against me!"

"Alright, alright. I'll go talk to her." Blaise sighed, patting his friend on the shoulder in a way that would have been reassuring had the two shared a friendship involving comforting gestures, but instead felt awkward at best.

"And what am _I_ supposed to do while you thrust my fate into the hands of that muggleborn spitfire?"

"Keep your mouth shut and start the potion." Blaise turned to head towards the potions cupboard, but stopped after a few steps and called out, "Hey, Malfoy!"

"What?" He demanded exasperatedly.

"You said muggleborn." Blaise winked and stalked off, leaving Malfoy to stew in his thoughts; thoughts that ranged from the consequences of murdering one's best mate to the way unshed tears brought out the subtle chestnut highlights in a certain curly-haired witch's coffee-colored eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Ugh! I should've known better than to hope Malfoy had changed! What is with you, Hermione? Blaise is becoming a fast friend, sure, but that doesn't mean everyone else is as amicable! Why do I even bother? Malfoy clearly hates me. Why else would he have brought up-<em>

_No! Don't even think about it! Don't even think about thinking about it!_

_Ron and you didn't work out, but that's okay . . . right?_

Shaking her head sullenly, Hermione scanned the shelves for a jar of frozen Ashwinder eggs. She spotted them, much to her chagrin, on the second highest shelf and huffed, straining up onto her tip-toes and stretching her arms as far as they would go.

"Oh bugger!" She spat, shuffling to the other side of the storage room and rolling the ladder over to the correct row. She gripped the sides of the precarious wooden set of rungs, stepping with one unsteady foot after the other as she ascended.

_Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down._

She repeated the mantra in her head, focusing all her energy on retrieving the ridiculously placed ingredient. She quickly realized that she would need to take one foot off the ladder to increase her range of motion. Sighing heavily, she slumped against the ladder, pressing her forehead onto the cool wood to alleviate some of her frustration. In an attempt to distract herself from her lethal distance from the ground, she found her mind wandering to her unsavory thoughts from before.

_No, of course it's not okay! What am I going to do? Even Ron couldn't stand being romantically involved with me. _

_Is it too much to ask for a genuinely sweet guy who loves me for me and will always-_

"Hey, Hermione. About what Malfoy said-" Began a voice from the doorway, startling her out of her reverie.

"Oh!" She squeaked, pulling her face from its resting place on the ladder and craning her neck around to see who had frightened her. She relaxed considerably when she saw that it was Blaise. "You startled me." She half breathed, half laughed.

"Sorry 'bout that. I didn't realize you were having such an intimate moment with the ladder." He joked.

"Well, you know how the old saying goes: _know thy enemy_."

"The ladder is your enemy? What did it ever do to you?" He asked in mock distress.

Hermione laughed, but it was nervous and strained. "No, not the ladder. I'm afraid of heights. Well, not heights, per say, but more the whole falling to my death thing."

"Ah, I see." Blaise replied thoughtfully. "Is it safe for me to assume that it's your fear of falling that has kept you off a broom all these years?"

"Yes, that'd be an incredibly safe assumption." She replied, her voice starting to shake as her eyes darted to the floor and she realized just how high up she was.

"Are you alright? Why don't you come down and I'll get the eggs." He spoke softly, and Hermione felt inexplicably wounded.

"I'm not a child, Blaise! I can do this!" She scoffed, her pride getting the better of her. She reached out again, swinging her leg out this time so she could stretch further along the shelf.

"Hermione, you're being ridiculous! Just let me help-"

"_No_! I've got this. Just a little further and-"

Her foot that had been anchoring her to the ladder slipped, sending her plummeting towards the castle floor. Hermione screamed, but no sound came out, and she desperately grabbed at the air. And then, just as quickly as it had begun, her terror-filled journey ended.

But instead of ending with a splatter of Hermione brains all over the unsuspecting floor, it ended in the warm, comforting arms of Blaise Zabini.

"Well, this seems familiar. I daresay you falling into my arms is becoming routine." He joked, but she didn't respond. She wrapped her arms around Blaise's broad shoulders and let her rapidly beating heart fall into time with his.

"That was a close one." She breathed, and Blaise chuckled.

"Yeah, but I've got you. Don't worry." He drew soothing circles on her lower back until he felt her relax into him. "Can you stand?"

"Hm?" She muttered, her mind infinitely more interested in the comforting sensation his hand was creating than the words being said to her. He repeated the question, the concern in his voice finally tugging her back into reality.

"Oh, yes. I can." She replied dreamily, her voice soft and faraway.

"Alright . . . would you like to do that then?" He asked, giving her a funny look.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, pushing away from him and mentally slapping herself for acting like such a damsel in distress. "Right, yes. Of course! Sorry!" She stammered, her face heating to a rosy blush. She ducked her head, her eyes downcast as she waited for him to berate her for her girly foolishness.

The berating never came.

Instead, two firm fingers gently pulled her face up, forcing her to look into Blaise's surprisingly gentle eyes.

"Hermione, stop this hiding nonsense. You have nothing to be ashamed of. We all have fears. You've no reason to hide from me. I'm your friend, and I'll always be here for you." The conviction in his voice held no room for doubt, and her face broke into an honest smile, nodding.

And as they stood there, caught in their moment of hushed intimacy, neither noticed the pair of icy grey eyes watching them from the doorway. They pulled away from each other suddenly, turning just in time to see a flash of blonde hair disappear as the door to the potions classroom slammed shut.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

After a few muttered curses - some remarkably more colorful than others - and a brief stint of pacing back and forth in front of the potions cupboard door, Blaise calmed enough to speak.

"Shit." He breathed, all pretense of polite dictation leaving him as his brain wracked itself to find a way to rectify the situation.

"What's the big deal?" Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes in disgust. "If his _pureblooded highness_ can't handle being friends with someone less bigoted than himself, he should just skive off entirely." She felt anger flooding her system, crawling through her piously moral veins like a thick, enticing poison.

"Look, I know you're upset-" Blaise began, attempting to placate her and quell the eminent explosion, but his words fell upon deaf ears.

"_Upset_? Of course I'm upset! I'm _more_ than upset! I'm outraged! How dare he judge you? He has no right! You've put up with his stupidity, his rash decisions and all of his smug antics since birth, and yet he can't just do this one thing for you: he cannot set aside his intolerance for your happiness." Hermione barreled on, holding up a hand to silence Blaise's oncoming protests.

"And don't try to tell me he was just shocked. You and I both know he could've handled the situation in an incredibly more respectable fashion. It is obvious that he will never approve of this friendship, of _me_, if he cannot pull his head out of his pristinely pallid ass long enough to see that I am more than just dirt beneath his polished, dragonskin boots. He needs to realize that I am a person, a woman with actual thoughts and feelings. If he cannot - or, more likely, if he chooses not to - see the truth, grasp the heart of the matter, I doubt he'll ever be able to show even a sliver of human understanding."

"Hermione, listen-" Blaise tried again, to no avail.

"No! I need to get this off my chest." She hissed, slicing her finger through the air to signify the finality of her statement. "Why must he be so difficult? The war is over! Everyone else has moved on. You're proof of that, Blaise. _We're_ proof of that." Hermione gestured wildly in between their bodies, indicating the intangible yet indubitably real connection filling the vacant space. "Our growing friendship is indisputable evidence that blood is as inconsequential as hair color in determining a person's worth. So how dare he have the audacity to storm out of class as if somehow our relationship is a physical malady, scorching his skin and tainting his sensibilities!"

The situation was getting out of hand fast. Blaise refused to take his eyes off of Hermione for fear that she would cause an even greater disturbance should she think he wasn't paying attention to her; however, in his peripherals he noticed several heads turning their way and caught the warning glance thrown at them by Professor Snape. He knew that he would have to do something to assuage the fiery witch, whose voice was slowly exceeding an acceptable whisper and climbing towards a full-out yell. Acting on testosterone-induced instinct, he dragged her back into the potions cupboard as she struggled violently in his grip.

"Blaise! Let me go this instant!" Hermione fussed as Blaise kicked the door shut behind them.

"No."

"_No_?"

"No." His voice was firm, masking his silent prayers for the strength to win this little battle of wills. After all, one doesn't spend seven years in Slytherin without learning how to veil one's true thoughts. "Not until you're calm enough that I can be guaranteed no bodily harm." After another few more seconds of intense struggle, Hermione gave in, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Now can you please tell me why Draco storming off has gotten you so agitated?" Blaised asked gently, releasing his vice-like grasp on her arms.

"I'm just disappointed, I guess, in both him and myself. It's like all of my hopes of coexisting with Malfoy in companionable silence have been crushed in the cruel palms of pureblood society; like the entire war means nothing now if it's message wasn't even powerful enough to reach the heart of a teenage boy."

Blaise sighed, running a hand through his hair thoughtfully. He wanted to hold her, tell her everything was going to be okay and that all her efforts hadn't been in vain, but he also remembered his promise to Malfoy. Caught between telling Hermione what she wanted to hear and what Malfoy wanted her to hear, Blase decided that sometimes the truth can be far more persuasive than any lie.

"I understand where you're coming from. But you have to know that, while he may not have experienced a full 180 degree flip, he _is_ questioning himself. He knows, deep down, that you're just as much of a witch as any pureblooded dame, but it's been beaten into him by his horrific father that you're inferior. While he may have recovered from the physical abuse, you cannot honestly expect him to come out of living in such a heartless environment mentally unscathed."

Hermione nodded, reluctantly conceding to Blaise's argument. "Okay, you have a point. But it's _more_ than that. I also feel so, so . . ." Her mind worked overtime, trying to come up with a word that would accurately describe the dull ache that resonated in her chest every time her heart beat. "_Betrayed_." She whispered, the wording sounding breathless and nonplused. "I thought you said he'd changed; that he wasn't as narrow-minded as before." The look she gave him them would haunt him for weeks, her eyes big and watery, full of accusation and despair. "Why would you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie to you intentionally. If I had known he would react so volatilely to my actions toward befriending you, I would have told you straightaway." Though the room was dark, Hermione could see the honesty radiating from behind Blaise's irises as he spoke, his voice firm with consolidated promises. "So please, I'm asking as your friend, just give him a second chance. If you can't do it for him, then do it for me." He pleaded.

"Okay." She relented. "I'll give him a chance to redeem himself." She watched as his face lit up, and decided a quick addition to her statement was necessary. "But _only_ because I could never put you in a position where you had to pick between him and me. As much as I am disturbed by his actions, I could never remain oblivious to your plight in good conscience." She supplied quickly, her eyes flashing with a sense of adamancy. Blaise nodded and stuck his hand out, as if concluding a business transaction. The handshake, however, lasted far too long for business and was intensified by Blaise's thumb stroking gently across the back of Hermione's hand. Breaking apart and feigning ignorance to the affection in his gesture, the two stepped out of the potions storage and returned to their lab bench.

They finished the potion in record time, given that one third of their team was missing, and Professor Snape gave a low grunt of approval as they set the corked vial of Amortentia on his desk for grading. They dismissed themselves; one walking down towards the dungeons to a confrontation he wasn't sure he was ready to have yet, the other ascending up the stairs and out into the courtyard, letting her distressed thoughts drift off into pleasant oblivion as the sun warmed her skin.

* * *

><p>When Blaise entered his dormitory, the emotional shift was instantaneous. He watched with cool detachment as Malfoy seethed, sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms propped up on his knees. As soon as he heard the door click shut, Malfoy's head snapped up. Casting a nonverbal silencing charm upon the room, he stood and took one menacing step forward.<p>

"Wait, Draco. Let me explain." Blaise half-heartedly tried to calm his friend. Truth be told, having grown up with the hotheaded blonde, he knew that Malfoy would need to blow off steam before he would listen to reason.

"Explain what? That instead of trying to help me get into Granger's good graces, you decided to try to get in her pants?" He growled, shoving Blaise roughly against the stone wall. Blaise winced but said nothing, determining that it would be better to let Malfoy wear himself out rather than attempting to fight back. While he was by no means weak, and in fact prided himself on maintaining excellent physical form without needing to participate in sports such as Quidditch, he recognized that Malfoy had much more motivation to fight and therefore decided on a path of passive observation.

"I _was_ trying to help you, Draco." Blaise responded, the mild agitation in his voice intertwined with indifference.

"Bullshit!" Malfoy spat, shaking his friend's shoulders brutally before tearing himself away and stepping back a few paces.

"It's true! She even agreed to give you a second chance, though I think she might rescind said offer if she sees that you've assaulted me." Blaise smirked, and Malfoy scoffed.

"Are you expecting me to fall to my knees in gratitude?"

"Of course not. I'll figure out a way for you to repay me later." Blaise flashed him a brilliant smile before pushing past him and flopping down onto his bed. He thought he might have heard a mumbled 'thank you,' but ignored the urge to comment on it as Malfoy shuffled past and sat down with a contented sigh on the forest green chaise adjacent to the fireplace.

After a few minutes of affable silence, Malfoy shot up.

"You didn't deny it!" He sounded affronted.

"Deny what?" Blaise asked, rubbing his hand tiredly across his brow as he pulled himself into a sitting position. He glanced over and rolled his eyes at Malfoy's open astonishment.

"That you wanted to get into Granger's pants!" Now he sounded more amused than anything, and Blaise sent him a warning glare.

"You'd stop right there if you knew what was good for you." Blase cautioned darkly.

"Oh this is just fan-fucking-tastic! Not only do I have to befriend the Mud-" Malfoy hesitated, "-muggleborn swot, now I have to deal with my best mate trying to court her."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy!"

"I don't think so, _Zabini_." His surname rolled off Malfoy's tongue in a blatantly sarcastic way that only served to enrage the Italian wizard further.

"My intentions toward Hermione are none of your business!" He hissed, and Malfoy laughed mirthlessly.

"Oh I'd say they're every bit my business considering I'm trusting _you_ to get her to open up to me! This is _my_ life on the line, Blaise, not yours. You and your bloody feelings will just have to wait."

"Excuse me? Could you repeat what you just said? Because I think I just heard that you're putting your own selfish desires ahead of your _best friend_."

"No, I'm putting my own selfish desires ahead of my best friend's frivolous attraction to a witch that has no appealing attributes whatsoever."

"I don't like her because she's _pretty_, Malfoy, though if you ask me I'd say she's downright gorgeous and you're a fool for failing to notice that fact. But since I must spell it out for you: I like her because she's _genuine_. You wouldn't understand that, of course, because guileless personalities are hard to come by what with all the pureblooded harpies vying for your attention, but for me it's as clear a distinction as night is from day." Blaise took a deep, calming breath and then continued in a voice void of any indication of aggravation.

"I'd rather not get attached to a fabricated doll whose only life goal is to be a cut-and-paste copy of the 'perfect' girls on the cover of Witch Weekly. I want someone to have intelligent conversations with, someone who I can rely on both emotionally and academically. Don't you see?"

"I see that you're a complete and utter fool if you think _she_ is what you need to be successful. Women aren't meant to be consorts, Blaise, they're meant to cook and clean and provide you with an heir. Anything else beyond that is a bonus, but hardly worth any extra effort." Malfoy chuckled. Blaise shook his head in frustration, opening his mouth and closing it again before deciding upon what to say.

"You've got to be kidding me." Blaise snorted. "Are you really so naive? You speak of women as if they are objects to be paraded about instead of people to be cherished and loved."

"There's little room for love in our world, Blaise. You know that. Both my parents and yours came together through arranged marriages, contracted based upon wealth and personal gain, and they're content, quite happy in fact!"

"Content? Yes. Happy? No. Our parents may have grown to appreciate each other over time, but that's not the kind of life I want to live, and it's certainly not the kind of world I wish my children to grow up in." Blaise shot Malfoy a pointed look. "I'm looking for honest romance, I want a girl who I can sweep off her feet, and if I'm getting strong vibes to start that search with Hermione, I'm definitely not going to ignore them."

"Whatever." Malfoy huffed. "It's your funeral."

"Quite possibly." Blaise smiled. "But she is unquestionably worth it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The Hogwarts library was a stress-filled, last minute study session hell for most students; however, there were a lucky few who came to view the library as a haven, an eye in the storm of everyday life. In such a sensation-inundated world, the rows upon rows of dusty books seemed to suck up the clamorous noise, filling the air with a calm spirit ideal for academic pursuits. It induced such a tranquil haze upon its inhabitants that they would jump from shock when the front doors opened and let in the disconcerting scents and sounds of the bustling hallway.

Of course, none were as perturbed by the disturbance of intellectual silence as Madame Pince, whose sharp eyes would level an unrelenting glare upon the newcomers until they bowed their heads in shame. Her muted reprimand nearly always worked, but was rendered useless when it fell upon the uncaring persona of Blaise Zabini. He brushed past the irate librarian, not out of disrespect but out of urgency, and made his way toward the back of the studious dwelling.

And at the very last table, positioned suspiciously close to the Restricted Section, Hermione was half-heartedly helping Ron and Harry with their transfiguration essays while struggling to understand what should have been a relatively uncomplicated chapter in her arithmancy textbook. She was already three sections ahead in Advanced Arithmancy Studies, but due to the dynamic nature of the subject, she was having difficulty internalizing the material.

"But 'Mione, you can't just give me half of the answer! I can't bloody well turn in half of an essay!" Ron groaned, his tone that of a needy toddler.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ronald! It's not that difficult! Telling you how to write the entire paper would be _cheating_." Hermione scolded, her face screwing up into an unpleasant grimace as she spoke the foul word. If one were to gaze into her carefully compartmentalized brain, they would find that the word _cheating_ existed in an especially dark corner, shackled to the floor with other atrocious terms, including but not limited to: _lying_, _stealing_, _selfishness_, and _moist_.

"Besides, why should I help someone who spends so little of his time on school work and so much of his time memorizing statistics for Quidditch?" She raised her eyebrow challengingly, and Ron blushed, bowing his head and dutifully scribbling away at his assignment. Harry chucked at the interaction but said nothing, knowing he'd never receive assistance from Hermione if he engaged in the dispute.

Blaise sauntered over quietly, sneaking up to the trio before clearing his throat and startling them. All three head snapped in his direction, and he delivered a haughty look to the two boys before smiling warmly at Hermione. He reached into his bag and pulled out an aged textbook, _Advanced Potion-Making _by Libatius Borage.

"My book!" Hermione gasped, jumping up out of her seat and nearly launching herself across the table to grab at it. Blaise laughed, holding the tome just out of her reach. She huffed in indignation and stomped her foot, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face aggravatedly.

"Nope. You're not getting this back until I get a sincere expression of gratitude for saving the day." Blaise smirked, and Hermione visibly relaxed.

"That's all? I would've said thank you anyway." She rolled her eyes.

"I don't doubt it."

"Well, here you are then: thank you, Blaise. I am sincerely grateful." She said in a theatrical tone that exuded a sense of regality. Hermione slid around the side of the table and held her hand out expectantly.

"That wasn't very creative, but I'll take it." He dropped the book in her hand softly, winking at her. "But just this once. Next time I expect you on your knees weeping tears of joy."

"I don't doubt it." Hermione replied sarcastically, breaking into a happy fit of laughter. Blaise attempted at stoicism, but couldn't find it within himself to deny her this moment of unrestrained delight. His chuckle was warm and smooth, caressing her amused giggles from an octave below.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Harry and Ron shouted at once. Hermione spun around, suddenly remembering her friends. Her nervous gaze flicked between the tensed, glasses-bearing wizard and the fuming redhead.

"Oh! Did I forget to tell you guys about Blaise? It-it must've slipped my mind-"

"Hermione, how could you lie straight to our faces? When have you forgotten to tell us anything?" Harry accused, his eyes filled with anger. Hermione stepped back slightly when her ears picked up on Ron's almost imperceptible growl, finding the sound unfamiliar and unsettling.

"Okay. You're right. I intentionally hid this from you, but I promise it isn't a big deal. It's nothing really!" She stammered.

"Oh so now I'm nothing? And here I thought we were so close to becoming lovers." Blaise deadpanned, and Hermione shot him a silencing glare. He held his hands up in defeat.

"What?" Ron bellowed, his face becoming red with rage. Hermione had never seen him so distressed. She placed a placating hand on his shoulder but he shrugged her off. "You're considering shagging this git?"

"No!" Hermione winced at her ginger friend's crude language. "Of course not! You _know_ I'm not that kind of woman!"

"Sorry, I suppose that one's my fault." Blaise conceded, throwing his arm over her shoulder protectively. "Listen, you Gryffindorks: Hermione and I are just friends. Honestly, it's hard _not_ to mess with you when you make it _so_ easy. How was I supposed to know you blokes had a thing for the little lady?"

"We don't!" Harry and Ron chorused, and Hermione shrank back, scorned.

_How could they so vehemently reject the notion of wanting me? Am I that undesirable?_

"Sure you don't." Blaise sounded unconvinced, but dropped the matter anyway. "Well, regardless, the jig is up now I suppose. No more secret friendships for our resident bookworm." He mussed the hair atop Hermione's head affectionately, and she elbowed him in the side.

After a quick, hushed discussion between the trio, Harry and Ron left for Quidditch practice, vowing to discuss her new friendship with the sneaky Slytherin later tonight in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione turned to Blaise as the two disappeared from sight.

"I am terribly sorry about all of that. I was just so worried about how they'd respond to the idea of me befriending you that I couldn't bring myself to tell them. I suppose I should've known that delaying the inevitable would only cause more trouble." She sighed, chewing on her bottom lip until the abused flesh stung.

"It's fine. I'm the one who should be apologizing, really. I know I haven't done you any favors, and I hope you'll forgive me for all the unnecessary tension I may have caused with my inappropriate comment earlier."

"Hah! That's nothing." She laughed. "No, I'm not worried about those two. I can handle them. After the whole Viktor Krum incident, they've been trying to act all macho and protective of me. It's quite hilarious, actually."

Blaise grinned at Hermione's amused snort, deciding that her laugh was definitely something he wanted to hear again.

"To be honest, I'm more stressed about my lack of understanding in arithmancy." She sighed, crossing her arms and looking away in shame. It wasn't everyday that Head Girl, know-it-all Hermione Granger admitted to not comprehending something, and Blaise knew it was a vulnerable moment.

"I think I may know someone who could help." Blaise said thoughtfully, though his eyes were suspiciously evasive as Hermione worked to capture his gaze. She was practically bursting with excitement at the good news.

_Finally! I can wait to have an actual conversation; one that has absolutely nothing to do with Quidditch and everything to do with a rigorously academic topic. And if this person is friends with Blaise, then they must be somebody who is quick and insightful._

"Who is it?" She inquired, masking her enthusiasm with schooled professionalism.

"Malfoy."

"_Malfoy?_" She sputtered in disbelief.

"Yes, it appears your ears _are_ functioning properly." Blaise teased, only to be rewarded with a swift smack upon his arm. "I'm serious. He can help."

"Malfoy would never help me. He can barely stand to be in the same room as me!" Hermione scoffed.

And in that moment, it was as if the clouds had parted and the blinding light of salvation poured down upon them as Blaise saw the golden opportunity he'd been waiting for. This was Malfoy's perfect chance to show Hermione how intelligent and cooperative he could be, and that was as good a place as any to begin gaining her acceptance. Deciding to explain the situation to Malfoy that night in the Slytherin dorms, Blaise gathered his belongings and turned to address Hermione.

"Just keep an open mind, okay?" He winked, and then he was gone.

* * *

><p>"What is wrong with you?" Hermione screeched as her book was torn from her grasped. Dragging her eyes upward, she drew back when her gaze became affixed with the murderous glares of Harry and Ron. "Oh."<p>

"You agreed that we'd talk later. It's later, so talk." Ron said gruffly, drawing the attention of the few remaining Gryffindors in the room. Most had already turned in for the night, passing Hermione with a bleary-eyed look that transformed them from aspiring wizards to exhausted, scholarly zombies.

"Calm down, Ron. You're making a scene!" She hissed, gesturing wildly at a group of fifth years who quickly turned their attention back to their books when they noticed the trio looking in their direction.

"Damn right I'm making a scene! You're sleeping with the enemy!"

"I am _not_ sleeping with _anybody_! And Blaise isn't the enemy."

"He's a _Slytherin_."

"He's my _friend_!"

"He's not worthy of you! You know that! Don't you remember all the prejudiced bullshit he used to throw at you?"

"Of course I remember! How could I forget?" Hermione muttered aggressively. She yanked up her sleeve, bearing the vicious, hateful scar on her forearm to the two wizards in front of her. They both gasped softly, and Hermione sighed. "It's been _carved_ into my skin, Ron. I am permanently tattooed with this awful, disgusting word; this foul creation made by the darkest of human souls. This scar is everlasting reminder of who I am. How could I _possibly_ forget?"

There was a tangible pause.

"I think that's enough, Ron." Harry said quietly, softly pulling Hermione's sleeve down to cover the insidious engraving. "We're sorry, Hermione. We didn't mean to upset you."

"I know . . . I just wish you'd trust me. I know how Blaise acted before, and we've discussed it thoroughly. But I genuinely believe he has changed, and I only ask that you give him a chance. _Please_. For me."

"Alright, fine. We'll let you two be." Harry conceded, a small smile gracing his lips.

"But only if you promise to tell us if he ever hurts you. You may trust him, but we'll never trust anyone with _our _Hermione." Ron added possessively, wrapping his arms around his two friends. The embrace was brief but impactful, and Hermione internally laughed at the protectiveness of her friends.

"It's a deal." She nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making her way back to the Heads' Common Room before curfew.

* * *

><p>Blaise left the Slytherin common room excitedly, formulating plans for wooing Hermione that were more sentimental than materialistic in nature. He was, after all, Italian and by default, a hopeless romantic. Blaise whistled while he walked, replaying the night's events over and over in his head. He broke out into a grin as he recalled the deal he'd made with Malfoy: he would get the opportunity to impress Hermione with his 'changed ways' during arithmancy study sessions, provided that he didn't try to intervene Blaise's advances toward the witch.<p>

Upon entering the Heads' Common Room, he found Hermione curled up on the sofa, sleeping softly, her lukewarm tea sitting on the hardwood table and her arithmancy textbook spread across her lap.

"She must've worn herself out studying." He laughed quietly, smiling softly as his eyes traced the contours of her face.

He had thought it impossible, but she somehow managed to look even more effortlessly beautiful in her peaceful state than when she was awake. He watched the firelight flicker across her features, illuminating the honey-colored highlights in her hair and casting a flushed glow upon her skin. Moving stealthily, Blaise placed the book on the table and brought her teacup into the kitchenette to rinse in the sink. Then, he lifted her delicately as to not wake her, carried her up the stairs and into her room, and placed her on top of the crimson comforter of her bed.

"I told you that carrying you had become a routine, and you weren't even conscious for this one." Blaise whispered affectionately. He brushed a few curls out of her face and then left, plunging the room into darkness as he shut the door behind him.


End file.
